How To Woo A Ghost
by Elizabeth5
Summary: Annie goes on a blind date, Mitchell fights some strange new feelings, and George starts having cravings and mood swings. M/A, G/N, and some M/OC, A/OC.
1. Blind Date

a/n: So, I pretty much swore to myself I'd never write a fanfiction again, but Being Human is too awesome to only have 32 fanfics, Annie and Mitchell are too cute not to be together if only in fic form (for now), and procrastinating what I'm really supposed to be doing is proving too tempting. It has been a while though, so bear with me-- I'm kind of rusty. :)

Title: How to Woo A Ghost

Chapter One: Blind Date

Rating: PG-ish

Summary: Annie goes on a blind date, Mitchell fights some strange new feelings, and George is having mood swings and strange cravings. M/A, G/N, some M/OC, A/OC.

Disclaimer: I do not own Being Human. Or Mitchell. Or Aidan Turner. But if I ever get three wishes...

How To Woo A Ghost

by Elizabeth5

"Is that him?"

Annie paused in her mad dash to clean up the kitchen, two mugs in hand, as she listened for the phantom knock that hadn't actually happened. Mitchell exchanged an amused glance with George, leaning back in his chair as he turned his gaze back to Annie. "I'm pretty sure that was just a dog barking. Down the street."

To his surprise, Annie began pacing, gesturing wildly with the mugs still in hand. "Why did I agree to this in the first place? I'm rubbish at dating, even when I was alive, and now I don't even have _that_ going for me."

"Annie," Mitchell started, rising to his feet to comfort her.

She whirled on him suddenly, index finger jabbing at him. "This is all your fault, you know!"

As much as Mitchell would like to be affronted by the accusation, Annie actually wasn't all that wrong. Mitchell _had_ been the one to suggest that Annie go on a blind date, although to be fair, he'd been coerced into it by his current somewhat "girlfriend" Shelly. She was only his "somewhat girlfriend" because the term girlfriend implied much more romance than the actual relationship provided; shagging someone semi-regularly was nice but not exactly the stuff about which sonnets were written. At least, not any sonnets he'd ever read. But Shelly-- nicknamed Lauren 2.0 by George and Annie-- was attractive, intelligent, low maintenance, and a reformed vampire herself, which made her pretty much the perfect bedtime buddy since there was no danger of him accidentally killing her, ala Lauren 1.0.

Anyhow, Shelly had been the one to suggest setting up Annie with a warlock friend of hers-- ("Those actually exist?" George had gaped when Mitchell first brought it up)-- whose name was Andrew and who owned his own sporting goods store. Annie and Andrew. It was cute enough to make a person want to puke. Mitchell had little expectation that the two of them would actually hit it off-- Annie still had too many issues with the whole Owen debacle to want to have a relationship with anyone at that point, in his opinion-- but Shelly had been insistent.

"She just sits around the house with nothing to do," Shelly explained to Mitchell. "And besides, she needs to have people to hang around besides you and George."

Mitchell had thought it strange that Shelly should take such an interest in Annie since the two seemed to have barely two words to say to each other when they were in the same room together-- which was as little as possible and would stay that way so long as he could help it. And furthermore, he very much doubted Annie would ever agree to such an arrangement, but Shelly had been rather... persuasive on the subject, *ahem*, and so he had gone home and broached the subject tentatively to Annie. Anticipating rejection, he'd been surprised when Annie merely looked up at him a long, calculating moment, and then briskly turned away. "Yeah, all right."

What? Mitchell furrowed his brow at her, wondering if maybe she'd misunderstood. "You don't have to, you know. I can tell Shelly you don't want to."

"I said I'd go, didn't I?" Annie asked, and began scrubbing a pot in the sink.

Mitchell scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, but you don't have to feel obligated or anything. No one's feelings will be hurt if--"

"Mitchell. It's one date. I'll go." Annie glanced back at him. "You must think it's a good idea, or you wouldn't have asked me."

"Yeah, but--"

"And besides," Annie continued, "I should know more people besides just you and George."

George, who had been half-listening in on the conversation and half-dozing, chose that moment to pipe in. "Oh, so I suppose the two of us aren't good enough for you anymore?"

This sort of melodramatic outburst had become more typical of George as of late. Nina had discovered a few months before that she was pregnant, and after a good 30 minutes of yelping, whimpering, and indignant stuttering, George had proposed. The wedding was postponed until after the little hairy monster arrived-- Nina wanted her wedding pictures to be taken when she was back at her fighting weight, thank you very much-- and in the meantime, George had developed the rather delightful and annoying symptoms of sympathetic pregnancy. As a result, he was sleepless, tired, nauseous, and often crabbier and moodier than Nina herself. He had also become incredibly emotional as of late-- even more so than usual.

At this newest little outburst, Annie exchanged an amused glance with Mitchell before turning back to George with a placating smile. "Of course you're good enough for me, George. But you and Nina are going to be married soon, and the house is going to feel so empty when you're gone..." A sudden idea seemed to strike her, and she brightened. "Who knows, maybe Andrew will move in and help with the rent!"

Mitchell's ears pricked up at this. "Move in? You haven't even gone on a first date yet."

Annie raised the spatula she'd been cleaning, leveling it at him. "Well, you don't have to say it like that. You know, there are men who find me attractive and who'd want to move in with me. It isn't the most ridiculous idea in the world."

What? Where had that come from? He backpedaled furiously. "Of course it isn't--"

"Actually, I'm glad you're dating," George interrupted, and suddenly he was inexplicably teary eyed. "Everyone should have love in their lives. Like I have, with Nina."

Sighing, Mitchell shook his head and slouched down in his seat. "There is entirely too much estrogen in this house..."

That had been two days ago. So the be technical, Annie was right when she said it was all Mitchell's fault that she was now anticipating a blind date with a total stranger. Although, if Mitchell was going to quibble-- which he wasn't, because in Annie's current nervous state, she might very well stab him or make a light fixture explode or something-- it was actually Shelly's doing. And if he were _really_ going to quibble, he'd point out that it was really Annie's fault. Because he'd never actually expected her to go along with it.

And then, as if things weren't already dramatic enough, George asked the one question he really shouldn't have asked at the moment. "Are you going to wear _that_?" he asked, eying over Annie's usual gray and white ensemble.

After defeating Herrick, Annie had been exploring her powers, pushing the limits of what she could and couldn't do. She'd discovered she could eat a little every now and then-- not too much because since she didn't have a digestive system anymore, the food would just sit there in random lumps around her body before they finally dissolved-- and if she concentrated very hard, she could change her clothes. She didn't do it often because it did require a vast amount of concentration and energy, but she'd been wildly enthusiastic to learn that if the occasion required it, she could wear a new outfit.

Tonight, apparently, was not an important enough occasion to merit it-- which Mitchell found he was strangely glad of-- but George's having called that into question seemed to throw Annie for a loop. She looked down at her clothes, her face verging on panic. "What's wrong with the way I look?"

Mitchell shot George a warning look, which George ignored. "Well, it's just a bit... blah."

Really, for a man dealing with a hormonal, pregnant fiance, George was absolutely clueless. "Blah?" Annie repeated, looking down at herself, aghast. "I knew it. I'm hideous! Why would anyone ever want to date me?"

"You're gorgeous," Mitchell assured her, casting another dirty look at George. "Ignore him. He's an idiot."

George sputtered indignantly, and Annie whirled toward Mitchell, eyes ablaze. "This is all your fault. I never should have agreed to this!"

And then the doorbell rang.

There was a mad dash as Annie raced for the stairs, hissing, "I can't answer it! I can't answer it!" While George and Mitchell began to scramble around like idiots until Mitchell remembered himself and slapped George's arm. "What are we carrying on for? He's not our date." And, composing themselves, together they went to answer the door.

Mitchell had actually never met a warlock. The closest he'd gotten to it was reading _Harry Potter_-- yes, J.K. Rowling was popular even with vampires-- and in his mind, he'd half-convinced himself that Andrew was going to be a gangly, bespectacled fellow wearing Quidditch robes and thick coke-bottle glasses that made him look about 12 years old.

Andrew was not Harry Potter. Andrew was tall, broad-shouldered, and gut-wrenchingly handsome (not that Mitchell went for that sort of thing, but he did have eyes, for goodness sake). Andrew was dressed impeccably in tan slacks and a dark v-neck sweater that made his eyes sparkle (really, Mitchell was totally, sincerely straight). Andrew looked like Prince Bloody Charming out of some storybook, the kind who could sweep any girl off her feet.

And Andrew was going out with Annie.

"Hi, I'm Andrew," he said in an easy, affable voice, seeming not at all intimidated by Annie's two fairly sized male roommates, which was a pretty impressive feat in and of itself. "Is Annie home?"

Mitchell couldn't stop staring at him. He was going to take out_ Annie._

George glanced at Mitchell expectantly before realizing Mitchell wasn't going to respond. He cleared his throat. "Just a tic. Let me run up and fetch her--"

"No need."

All three men turned at the sight of Annie, who had appeared suddenly in the front entryway, still in her normal gray and white outfit, but wearing a touch of lipstick now. She regarded Andrew shyly, extending a hand. "Hi, I'm Annie."

Andrew was staring at Annie like he'd just won the lottery. Something inside of Mitchell clenched at the sight of it. "Hi," Andrew said when he'd managed to stop drooling, "it's so nice to meet you. Shelly's told me a lot about you--"

"I'm a vampire," Mitchell said abruptly.

In his head, it had seemed like a perfectly logical thing to say, but now everyone was staring at him and blinking like he'd lost his marbles. Andrew cleared his throat. "Yeah, Shelly mentioned that, too." He turned to Annie. "Should we get going?"

He held out his arm. Annie glanced briefly at Mitchell before taking it, and then they left. Together.

George rocked on his heels, looking pleased. "Well, he was handsome, wasn't he? Tall and strapping. And he had such a nice smile..."

Mitchell rolled his eyes, trying to ignore that tight sensation in his stomach. "You are such a woman," he told George, and stalked out of the room.

He tried to distract himself by watching some bad nighttime soaps, popping in a Laurel and Hardy DVD, even exercising a bit-- although, exercising wasn't nearly as entertaining for vampires, since his body had pretty much been frozen in the state it had been in when he died, which meant he'd be trim and toned forever whether he bought a Bowflex or not. It seemed like he'd been going at it for ages, but when he finally checked his watch, it was only 10:00.

Still, he figured Annie and Andrew should be getting back soon. 10:00 was plenty late enough for a first date.

When 10:30 rolled around and there was still no sign of them, Mitchell called George, who was over at Nina's. "Have you heard from Annie?"

"Nope." George sounded as though he was in a much better mood than he had been earlier in the day. He giggled abruptly, and Mitchell grimaced, trying not to imagine what was happening on the other end of the line.

"It's 10:30," he pressed, "don't you think they should be back by now?"

"Mitchell, relax, it's fine." Okay, things were officially weird if George was telling _him_ to relax. "The night is young. Some clubs don't even open until 10 or so."

"Clubs?" Mitchell repeated, eyebrows arching as high as they could go. "You think he took her clubbing?" Another thought struck him, and he frowned. "Wait-- how on earth do _you_ know how late clubs are open?"

But George had clearly grown distracted on the other end of the line. "All right, sounds good. Talk to you later."

The dial tone sounded before Mitchell could protest. He hung up his own phone, brooding. _Clubbing_. Had that dirty rotten bastard actually taken Annie clubbing? Mitchell knew why men took women to clubs. He might have been born a century ago, but things didn't really change all that much. You took a woman dancing so you could be somewhere dark and loud, where you'd have to press close to hear each other, where you were allowed to touch her and pull her close...

Abruptly, he rose to his feet, grabbing his jacket and his car keys. He drove with no real thought to where he was going, certain that he'd be able to intuitively sense where Annie might be. But all the parking lots of the clubs were jam packed, and he had no idea what kind of car Andrew drove anyway. Well, he wouldn't make that mistake again. Next time, he'd get a full background check on Andrew or any other punk who was going to take their Annie out on the town.

If there was a next time.

Crap. Was there going to be a next time?

By the time he circled back home, the light was on in the living room. Mitchell hurried inside, relieved to see Annie sitting on the living room sofa, warming her hands with a mug of tea. Alone. He feigned nonchalance, as though he hadn't spent the better part of the evening driving around like a crazy person looking for her.

Annie smiled at him as he entered, motioning for him to join her on the couch, which he did happily. "Out with Shelly?" she asked him.

"Yeah," he lied. It was easier than explaining where he'd really been. Forcing a bright smile, he asked, "So, how was it? Best night ever?"

Annie's expression became contemplative. "Andrew was... nice." The ghost of a smile haunted her lips, and even that little tiny twitch of a smile made Mitchell's innards twist painfully. "Very nice," she amended.

Mitchell searched her face for any sign of discontent, disappointment, anything. "He didn't try anything, did he?"

She rolled her eyes. "He was a perfect gentleman. Unlike a certain vampire I know who shags every girl he meets on the first date."

That stung. "Not... _every_ girl," he protested feebly.

The shadow of something passed through Annie's eyes, too quick to name. It was gone before he could place it. "Well, we had a nice time. He was sweet."

Mitchell released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Do you think you'll go out again?"

"I don't know." Annie shrugged as though it didn't matter, though he could see in her eyes that she wanted him to. Again, the painful clenching of Mitchell's internal organs. "I guess we'll see, won't we?"

He did his best to smile. "I'm glad you had a good time." He rose to his feet, faking a yawn. "Well, I better go to bed."

Annie looked at him in surprise. "You aren't going to stay up to watch _Super Nanny_?"

It had become something of their nightly ritual-- mocking the baffled parents, the wild children, the unflappable nanny. But Mitchell found he didn't have the stomach for it that night. "Nah, I'm beat. Tomorrow though, yeah?"

He left before she could answer, afraid that she would be able to see into the heart of him, afraid he might have to see into the heart of himself.

TBC...

_Coming up: A second date. A red dress. Some more sputtering. Poor Mitchell._

*** Review and I'll send you happy Mitchell thoughts!***


	2. Double Date

a/n: I won't be posting this often this quickly, but I happened to get this chapter done and don't know when I'll have time to update after this... so here goes nothing! Enjoy, and please review! And thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter! :)

Title: How to Woo a Ghost

Author: Elizabeth5

Rating: PG-ish

Pairings: M/A, G/N, and some M/OC, A/OC

Disclaimer: I don't own Being Human, or Mitchell, or Aidan Turner. But if a genie ever grants me three wishes...

**How to Woo a Ghost**

Chapter Two: Double Date

Mitchell awoke to the smell of French toast and bacon. Smiling, he bounded down the stairs to find George and Nina already scarfing down platefuls of food while Annie worked away happily at the stove. Spotting him, she beamed. "Morning, Mitchell!"

"Morning." Pulling up a chair, he reached for an empty plate and began loading it up. "What's the big occasion?"

"Andrew called," George announced, wiggling his eyebrows, and Annie beamed to confirm it.

Mitchell found he had suddenly lost his appetite. Still, for appearance's sake, he cut off a square of toast and tried to smile. "Did he? And what did old Drew want?"

In his passive aggressive attempt to undermine Andrew, Mitchell had taken to nicknaming him Drew. He hadn't yet confirmed it, but he imagined Andrew probably didn't like being called Drew. Or at least, he hoped.

"_Andrew_ asked me out for this afternoon," Annie informed him happily. "We're going ice skating."

Mitchell tried to think of something snarky to say, but the look on Annie's face made the words die on his lips. She looked so happy. "That sounds like fun," he said, forcing a smile. "I'm sure you'll have a good time."

Continuing to beam, Annie turned off the stove and wiped her hands on the dish towel. "Well, I'm going to see to cleaning the attic. Wish me luck!" And with that, she disappeared upstairs.

Mitchell watched after her a moment, digging morosely into his toast. "I don't like this Andrew guy," he announced to no one in particular. "He's too... too... _you know_. You know?"

George sputtered. "What's not to like? He's handsome, independently well-to-do, has magical powers, and seems to really like Annie."

"Exactly," Mitchell muttered darkly.

Fortunately, Nina chose that moment to rush out of the room, hand clasped over her mouth, or else Mitchell might have had to explain himself. George rose to his feet after her, expression worried. "Sweetheart, are you all right?"

"Bite me!" Nina retorted from the other room, following up with a loud retching.

George and Mitchell exchanged disgusted looks. "I should..." George motioned toward the bathroom, and reluctantly followed after her.

Well, there was no reason to stick around all day, not if it was going to be the vomit hour with Remus and Tonks. Plus, he really didn't want to be around when Andrew came to pick up Annie._ Ice skating_. Who went ice skating anymore, anyway? On some artificial lake in a rink with cushy little handles on the wall in case you fell. Psh. Back in the day, people went to an actual lake where you risked death every time because you might break through the ice and plunge into the icy water and... okay, he was going into Grandpa-mode again. Time to leave.

He found himself at Shelly's flat, ringing the buzzer irritably. She answered a moment later, every five-foot-ten sultry blond inch of her, and gave him a slow smile. "Hello, stranger. Where the hell have you--"

But Mitchell pounced on her before she got a chance to finish the sentence.

#

Mitchell waited what he thought was a reasonable amount of time afterward before turning to Shelly. "So tell me more about this Andrew guy. Where's he from, what's his family like, does he have a criminal record. You know, the usual."

A long pause, and then Shelly propped herslef up onto her elbow and gave him an incredulous look. "Seriously?"

He tried to smile. "Well, I was only joking about the criminal record part. Unless he has one..."

Shelly shook her head. "You come here, shag me senseless, and not five minutes later start interrogating me about Annie's new boyfriend? Could you maybe try being a little less transparent?"

Okay so maybe it hadn't been a _reasonable_ amount of time... "He's not her boyfriend," he couldn't help but point out. "It's only their second date."

Needless to say, Shelly kicked him out after that.

The house was empty by the time he made it back. George had left a note that he and Nina were grocery shopping, and Annie was no doubt still on her date with Andrew the amazing. Mitchell raided the fridge, grabbed the only edible thing he could find, which was a half-eaten block of cheese, then headed upstairs to his room. After finishing the cheese, he hopped in the shower and afterwards pulled on his skivvies and headed to his bedroom, humming to himself. He took a moment gathering his dirty clothes and throwing them in the hamper; when he finished and turned back around, Annie was standing in the doorway, gaping at him.

Mitchell waited for her to say something, but she was too busy staring, eyes running over the lines of his body like she was committing him to memory. Finally, he cleared his throat, grinning as her eyes snapped up to his face. "Take a picture. It'll last longer." Pondering his own words, Mitchell frowned. "Actually, no, it won't, because I don't show up on film, so... stare away."

"I wasn't staring," Annie protested, her cheeks a nice rosy shade of pink. He hadn't known ghosts could blush. It was adorable. "I was just lost in my thoughts, and you happened to be standing right in my line of sight, so..." She trailed off, seeming to realize Mitchell wasn't buying it, and quickly changed the subject. "Andrew asked me out again for tomorrow. Dinner and dancing. At that new big band restaurant in town."

Feeling the smile fade from his face, Mitchell grabbed a shirt off the bed to distract himself and started dressing. "That's great, Annie. Sounds like fun."

Annie twisted her hands together, chewing on her lip. "I guess..."

Mitchell watched her carefully. "Do you not want to go?" he asked, trying not to let his voice sound too hopeful.

She shook her head. "No, I do, I just..." Abruptly, she met his gaze, her eyes baleful. "I dont know how to dance!"

He gaped at her in disbelief. "How is that even possible with a girl born in the MTV era?"

Annie shook her head. "I know how to _dance_, like Beyonce dance." She busted a move for him as proof before continuing, "but I don't know how to swing dance or jive or whatever they call it, and I thought you might because you're old."

He blinked at her. "Well, thanks for that."

"You know what I mean." Annie put on her best puppy-dog eyes. "Teach me?"

Mitchell held out for as long as he could, but there was really no saying no to those eyes. "Fine. But can I put on some pants first?"

The cute little blush again. "Please do."

When he was fully dressed, he joined Annie in the living room. Annie was sitting on the ground, flipping through the CD case, but Mitchell waved her off, pulling his I-Pod from his pocket. "No need. I have everything we need right here."

Annie scrunched up her nose at him. "You have that stuff on your I-Pod? You really are an old fogey."

Mitchell leveled a finger at her. "Hey, this _stuff_ happens to be 1,000 times better than any of that Britney Backstreet junk they call music today." He put the I-Pod in its holder and found an Ella Fitzgerald ballad. "Tell me this isn't better than Gwen Stefani."

They listened a moment before Annie begrudgingly rolled her eyes. "Well, I guess it isn't awful. But at least Gwen knows a thing or two about a good beat."

"You want a good beat?" Mitchell flipped through until he found a Duke Ellington tune, then pulled Annie to her feet. "These guys invented rhythm before old Gwen was even a twinkle in her grandfather's eye."

Annie couldn't help but grin back at him, caught up in his enthusiasm. "Oh, yeah? Prove it."

They danced. Wild, goofy, enthusiastic, over-the-top. They jived, they swung, they did the Charleston (even though Mitchell was quick to point out it was the wrong time period, to which Annie rolled her eyes and called him a fogey again). He couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun in... ever. By the tenth song or so, both he and Annie were laughing so hard they were in tears and had to hold onto each other to stop from falling over.

"Did everyone have this much fun in the '40s?" Annie asked him, clutching onto his arm.

"Aside from that pesky world war?" Mitchell shrugged, grinning. "Yeah, it was a blast."

Suddenly, the song changed from the fast, upbeat tempo with which they'd been practicing to something slower and more melodic, Loius Armstrong's "As Time Goes By." Self-consciously, Mitchell tried to release Annie and move away, but to his surprise, she was already moving into his arms, fitting there more easily than she had any right to. She looked straight into his eyes, smiling a little, swallowing. "Shall we?"

Mitchell swallowed heavily, falling into the rhythm of the song. He pulled her closer; it was easier if he didn't have to see her face, didn't have to remember that it was Annie that smelled so good and felt so right swaying against his body. It was easier to tell himself that it was natural to feel this way about a friend, that a platonic roommate should naturally be able to set every nerve ending on alert at even the hope that some part of her would brush against him.

"Ahem," came a voice from the doorway.

Mitchell looked up to see Shelly standing at the entryway, watching them with a raised eyebrow. He immediately released Annie, although in hindsight, that probably only made him seem more guilty. "Shelly. What are you doing here?"

She gave a bitter smile, shaking her head. "I came to apologize for overreacting this afternoon. But apparently, I didn't. Color me embarrassed." With that, she turned on her heel, heading for the door.

Mitchell raced after her. "It's not what you think--"

Shelly shot him a withering glare. "Right. Like that's the first time I've heard that in the last 80 years of my life. Honestly-- mobile phones, internet, cloning, but men are still using the same tired old excuses from the beginning of time--"

"I was teaching him to dance," Annie interrupted, stepping forward and playing nervously with the ends of her shirt. Shelly turned and stared at her. Mitchell stared, too, wondering where Annie was going with this. Swallowing, Annie pressed forward, "He wanted to surprise you and take you out to this new club with Andrew and I tomorrow, only he hasn't danced in a long time and he's rusty, so he asked for my help 'cause he wanted everything to be perfect. For you."

Shelly continued staring at Annie for a long moment, uncomprehending. She raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow and slowly turned to Mitchell. "Is this... true?"

Not knowing what else to do, Mitchell nodded.

"You want to take me out?" Shelly continued. "On an actual real-life date?"

Mitchell shrugged, forcing a grin. "I'm a man of many surprises."

Shelly seemed to be struggling to hide a smile. Mitchell realized with a start that it was the first time he'd actually seen her looking _pleased_. And it had taken incredibly little effort. Damn. He really was a crap boyfriend.

"So when are we going?" Shelly asked him.

Mitchell glanced over her shoulder to Annie for help. She mouthed him the answer. "Tomorrow. Uh... eight o'clock. Wear something nice."

Shelly grabbed him suddenly, pulling him into a fierce kiss. Mitchell was winded when she pulled away, and she smirked against him, murmuring huskily, "If you think random casual shagging is good, wait until you try actually-dating shagging. You won't be disappointed."

Mitchell grinned at her as visions of-- ahem-- sugar plums danced in his head. "Can't wait." And still grinning, he watched her saunter to the door, giving her one last wink before she left.

Once she was gone, he sighed in relief, turning back to Annie. "Thanks a million. You're a life saver--"

But Annie had disappeared out of the room, leaving Mitchell alone.

#

"I hate dressing up," Mitchell complained as George helped him fix his tie in the front entryway. Andrew and Shelly were supposed to meet them at the house and were due any minute, and Annie was still upstairs fiddling around, so that left George as his sole fashion advisor, which didn't exactly inspire too much confidence. "I mean, maybe if the coat came with tails, or a bowler hat..."

George tutted, finishing with Mitchell's tie. "As much as I'm sure Shelly wants to date a penguin, I think you're better off like this."

"Who wants to date a penguin?"

Both men turned and then did a double-take at the sight of Annie coming down the stairs. She was out of her normal gray and white ensemble and was wearing a red dress that hugged her curves in all the right places and made her skin do a pretty, glowing thing that was making it difficult not to stare.

Seeming embarrassed but pleased by the attention, Annie ventured down another step. "Is it all right?" Another step. "It's too much, isn't it?"

"You're perfect," Mitchell breathed, and immediately felt stupid for saying it.

Fortunately, George chimed in before it could get too awkward, attempting a cat-call whistle. "Me-ow. Someone is looking fierce!" Seeing Annie and Mitchell's looks, he cleared his throat, looking embarrassed. "Nina's been making me watch reruns of _America's Next Top Model_ with her..."

Annie gave him a look, exchanging a glance with Mitchell. "Right. I'm sure it was all Nina's doing."

Someone knocked on the door. It struck Mitchell suddenly that he wasn't the only one who was going to see Annie in that dress, that Andrew was going to see her looking all gorgeous and... shiny. Abruptly, he shrugged off his coat, thrusting it at her. "You'll probably need this. It's cold outside."

Annie gave him a quizzical smile. "I'm fine."

"I hear there's a cold front moving in," Mitchell insisted. "You don't want to get sick, do you?"

"Mitchell. I'm dead. I don't think it'll matter all that much."

George rolled his eyes, reaching to open the door. "For goodness sake, Mitchell, stop acting like a jealous boyfriend."

That effectively shut Mitchell up.

It was Shelly and Andrew at the door. Shelly looked absolutely stunning in a shiny silvery dress that showed off an impressive amount of leg, but Mitchell hardly noticed. He was too busy watching Andrew slowly take in Annie's appearance and seeing the flush that crept up Annie's neck as Andrew brought her hand to his lips.

Oh, tonight was going to be bloody fantastic.

#

It was the third slow dance in a row, and Andrew and Annie were swaying closely together in the middle of the dancefloor, a perfect match, acting like there was no one else in the room. Mitchell glowered at them and gripped his fork tightly in his hand, the ridges digging into his flesh. _Get a room_! he wanted to shout at them, but was afraid they might follow his advice.

"Mitchell." Mitchell looked up, startled to see Shelly glaring at him from across the table. He'd half-forgotten she was even there. "You haven't even asked me to dance yet."

He blinked, shaking his head. "Sorry. Sorry, Shelly, I'm being an arse. Would you like to..." He started out of his chair, reaching for her, but couldn't help one more glance at Annie, who was giggling at something Andrew had just whispered in her ear.

When he looked back, Shelly had a resigned look on her face. She gave a weary sigh. "Sit down, Mitchell."

Frowning, he obeyed. "What's up?"

Shelly shook her head, her lips pursed. "I'm not stupid, you know. Dead, scared of spiders, and a little bit slutty, but not stupid."

Mitchell blinked a few times, waiting for her to elaborate. "I'm not following you..."

To his surprise, Shelly laughed, shaking her head, and the look she gave him afterward was almost pitying. "You know, the funny thing is, I think you've actually convinced yourself of that. Take some time, Mitchell. Think about it. In fact, tonight should be a good time, since you're going to spend it alone."

She rose to her feet, pausing at the edge of the table. "Only don't take too long to piece it together. She won't wait around forever."

And with that, she left, leaving a flabbergasted Mitchell in her wake.

TBC...

Coming Up: An awkward conversation involving birds and bees, a dinner party, and an unexpected guests.

Review and I'll send you happy Mitchell thoughts!


	3. Dinner Date

a/n: So I realize that I have Nina vomiting quite a lot in this series. I figure that being pregnant with a werewolf baby would probably do a number on your stomach. Plus, it's proven to be pretty convenient for the storyline. :) Also, I've decided that 'tutted' is my favorite verb to use for George. I'm going to try to use it at least once every scene that he's in.

Title: How to Woo A Ghost

Author: Elizabeth5

Rating: PG-13-ish

Disclaimer: I don't own Being Human, or Mitchell, or Aidan Turner. But if a genie ever grants me three wishes...

How To Woo A Ghost

Chapter Three: Dinner Date

Mitchell had actually followed Shelly's advice and had spent the better part of the night examining his feelings and behaviors from the past few days. Every jealousy, every moment of pettiness, every disappointment. And he'd come to a startling realization.

He was in love with Annie.

He loved her smile. He loved her warmth. He loved her enthusiasm and zest for life. He loved that she hadn't gone through the door without knowing he was okay, that she'd wept at the thought of him facing Herrick alone, that she'd even turned against George when she thought he was abandoning Mitchell. He loved the reminders she put on the toilet to put the seat back down, even though she didn't even have to use it, and he loved it when she blushed, and he loved watching _Super Nanny_ with her. He even loved all those damn mugs of tea. He _especially_ loved all those mugs of tea.

So he was in love with Annie. It should have been the happiest day of his life, and in a way it was, because after so many years of being alone, he honestly hadn't known if his heart was capable of feeling that way anymore. But in another way, it was devastating, because he knew what he was and he knew what she was, and even God didn't have a big enough sense of humor to ever allow a world where he would deserve her. She was too beautiful and good and kind. She belonged out in the bright sunshiny world with a Ken doll like Andrew. Not in the shadows with a monster like him.

A knock at his door startled Mitchell from his brooding. He glanced at his clock and saw it was nearing 8:00 in the morning. He'd been up all night thinking about Annie. Great. There went his beauty sleep.

Sighing, he ran a hand over his face. "Come in."

It was Annie. Mitchell sat up straighter in bed, both relieved and disappointed to see she was no longer in the red dress from the night before. She came over and sat on the edge of the bed, playing absentmindedly with his comforter. It was something she'd done a million times before, but now that he knew he loved her, everything felt strangely charged. Dammit. What had he gotten himself into?

"Where'd you run off to last night?" Annie asked him. "You disappeared before the dessert cart even arrived."

Mitchell scratched the back of his head, searching for a plausible excuse. "Well..."

Annie looked down at the bedspread. "Let me guess-- you and Shelly found better ways to entertain yourselves?"

It might have only been his imagination, but did she sound just a little bit put out by the idea? It was impossible to know, since his view was most decidedly biased now. Still, a vampire could hope. "Actually..." He decided on the truth, or at least a version of it. "We broke up."

Annie's eyes grew wide, filled with horror at her blunder. "Oh, Mitchell, I'm so sorry."

He shrugged, sincere as he told her, "It's no big thing. My heart wasn't in it anyway."

But he must not have sounded too convincing because Annie crawled up beside him and leaned her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

They remained like that a moment. Mitchell could have stayed like that forever, but sooner or later Annie might notice that he seemed to like holding her a little too much. He cleared his throat. "So aside from hearing my downer for the morning, did you have something you wanted to talk about?"

He felt Annie shift beside him. "No, it's all right."

"Come on," he pressed, "what is it?"

Annie shook her head. "Not right now. It'd be too tactless."

"Annie." Mitchell turned so he was facing her. "Come on. There's nothing you can't talk to me about-- you know that."

Taking in a deep breath, Annie met his gaze. "I wanted to ask you about sex."

Except maybe that. If Mitchell had been drinking anything at that point, he probably would have spit it out all over her. As it was, he merely gaped. "What about it?" he finallhy managed to sputter.

"You know, how does it work?"

Mitchell raised an eyebrow at her. "I would have assumed your mum would have gone over that with you."

She slugged his arm. "I mean for a ghost. For me. How would that work?"

His eyebrow arched even higher, if that was possible. "How the hell should I know?"

Annie chewed on her lip, looking less certain of herself. "I don't know. You always seem to know this kind of stuff, so I thought..."

A sudden thought struck Mitchell. He sat up straight in bed, hands clenching into fists. "Has Andrew been pressuring you? I'll kill him."

Annie caught his arm before he could charge out of bed. "Andrew hasn't said anything about it-- not even hinted. I just want to know, for myself."

He felt like he had been sucker punched. "Jeez, Annie, you've only been on three dates with the guy."

She rolled her eyes. "Typical male double standard. How come you can shag any girl you want on the first date, but I'm a slut if I'm even thinking about it after date three?"

"Because!" Mitchell protested.

"Because why?" Annie pressed. "I'll tell you why-- 'cause I'm a woman, that's why--"

"Because you're too good for that," Mitchell informed her quietly.

Annie stared at him a long moment, seeming torn between annoyance and flattery. Finally, she sighed, seeming to have decided on neither. "I'm not saying I'm going to sleep with Andrew, or anyone else for that matter. For all I know, I'll spend the rest of my un-life as a ghost nun. I just wanted to know, hypothetically, how it would work should the situation ever arise."

Mitchell nodded, supposing that was fair. Annie had the right to do whatever she wanted, whether it made him crazy at the thought of it or not. Giving her an apologetic smile, he leaned back against the headboard and waited to see if she'd join him. She hesitated a moment, then leaned against him again. "What is it you wanted to know exactly?" he asked.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to stay in place," Annie murmured, sounding very young then, and vulnerable. "I'm afraid I'll get scared and disappear."

Mitchell couldn't help but get hints of what Owen must have put her through from that statement. Resisting the urge to track down the bastard and bloody him to a pulp, Mitchell instead swallowed and struggled to keep his voice gentle. "Well, I think whoever you're with will have to make sure to be extra kind, and keep reminding you of how much he loves you and how beautiful you are and how lucky he is to be with you. And he will be-- whoever he is. Lucky, I mean."

The words hung in the air a moment. Annie turned to him, eyes shining with tears. "Thank you, Mitchell." She leaned forward, kissing his cheek.

Mitchell's eyes flickered shut at the contact, savoring the moment. By the time Annie pulled back, he was trying his best to give an easy, unaffected smile. "Anytime," he told her.

#

George and Nina were waiting for them when they came downstairs, looking unusually excited for such an early hour of the morning. "We're going to have a dinner party!" George announced in the same tone a normal person might have said "We're going to Disneyland!" or "We just found a pterodactyl in the backyard!"

Mitchell exchanged a glance with Annie. "Congratulations. I'm sure you'll have loads of fun."

George rolled his eyes. "Not _we_, Nina and me 'we'. We, all of us 'we'."

Annie gave him a quizzical look. "Since when are you so gung ho about dinner parties?"

Face falling, George looked back and forth tween Mitchell and Annie. "Don't you want to have a dinner party?"

It was like they had kicked a puppy. Exchanging another glance with Mitchell, Annie mustered a smile. "Of course we do!"

Nina ran her hand affectionately along George's back. "George was feeling a bit left out with all the double dating going on, but since most restaurants frown on their patrons randomly vomiting under the table, we figured instead of inviting ourselves along the next time, we'd have everyone over here. Andrew and Shelly, the whole gang."

Annie shot a worried glance at Mitchell. "Actually, maybe we shouldn't--"

"Shelly and I broke up," Mitchell informed them, reaching for a banana off the table.

George threw his hands up into the air, as though Mitchell had broken up with him instead of Shelly. "Great. Now we're uneven."

Mitchell rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the sympathy, George."

"Sorry, it's just-- how do you arrange five around a table?"

Annie shot another sympathetic glance at Mitchell. "Maybe we should just wait another time for the dinner party--"

George pouted. "Or just not invite Mitchell."

"George!" Annie and Nina said at the same time.

He tried his best to look innocent. "What? I was only joking."

Mitchell shook his head. "People, please, can we tone down the melodrama? I'll find another date. The numbers will be even."

"You don't have to," Nina spoke up. "George will understand if you don't feel up to it-- won't you, George?"

The expression on George's face suggested otherwise. Mitchell sighed. It would be like ruining a kid's Christmas. Or in this case, Hanukkah. "Nah, I don't mind. Have your dinner party."

George "yipeed!"-- actually yipeed-- and beamed at everyone in the room. "It's going to be great, you'll see. And Nina and I are going to be the life of the party! No old, practically married couple stigma for us!" A sudden thought seemed to strike him. "I should find my orange flower print shirt. Talk about the party spirit!" And he disappeared from the room before anyone could dissuade him from that rather horrific idea.

"I'll go call Andrew," Annie announced, heading up the stairs.

That left Mitchell alone with Nina. He sat across from her, grabbing a few grapes from the fruit bowl at the center of the table and popping them into his mouth. "So how are you and the wee one feeling these days?"

"Fine," Nina returned with a smile. "And how are things with you and Annie?"

Mitchell furrowed his brow, popping in a few more grapes. " 'Me and Annie'?"

Nina blinked at him, nonplussed. "Well, yeah. I assume you and Shelly broke up because you're in love with Annie."

Choking on the grapes, Mitchell raised a hand to his chest, beating on it heavily. "Come again?"

Nina winced. "Am I being tactless? It's hard to tell with all the hormones-- my social cues are all shot to hell. But you are in love with her, yeah?"

He wanted to lie, but there was something about that steady gaze of hers that made it impossible. Heaven help that baby in her tummy-- he wouldn't get away with a thing. "What are you, psychic?"

Looking amused, Nina shook her head. "No, but I do have eyes. And a woman's intuition."

Another thought struck Mitchell, and he paled. "Does George know?"

Nina raised her eyebrow at him. "Do you really think he could have kept that a secret from you? Or anyone else, for that matter?"

"He is crap at secrets," Mitchell agreed.

Smiling affectionately, Nina rubbed her stomach. "I know, isn't he?" Her smile faded, replaced once again by her no-nonsense gaze. "So what are you going to do about it? Annie, I mean."

"Nothing!" Mitchell said quickly. "Absolutely nothing. I mean, it's ridiculous and stupid and-- why, do you think I should say something?"

"That does seem to be your best option," Nina informed him.

"That, or try and make her jealous to see if she likes me," Mitchell returned. He waited a beat as the thought processed, then looked up at Nina. "Actually, that might work."

She rolled her eyes. "Men. Always reverting to the playground when it comes to relationships."

Mitchell shrugged. "Most of us never did learn anything much after the age of five. But I do happen to know, if you pull a girl's hair hard enough, she'll chase after you every time."

Fighting a smile, Nina shook her head. "And they say romance is dead." She rose to her feet. "For the record, I think this is a terrible idea. But if you are going to try and make her jealous, you better find someone who's really going to do the job."

A slow smile stretched across Mitchell's face. "I think I know just the person..."

#

The dinner party was in full swing, and George looked like he was having the time of his life, bustling about the kitchen and tutting at anyone who tried to touch the food. The only one not arrived yet was Mitchell's date, who had sounded utterly stunned when he called her up but had thankfully agreed to come. He was waiting for her by the window, hoping she wouldn't change her mind-- no telling what George would do if the table placings were uneven. Nina was helping George in the kitchen, and Annie and Andrew were having hand sex on the couch. Okay, so they were only holding hands, but they seemed far too enthusiastic about it for Mitchell's liking.

"So who's the mystery girl you've invited?" Annie asked from the couch.

"Yeah," Andrew piped up from beside her, "we're all _dying_ to know-- no pun intended."

Mitchell managed to stop himself from calling Andrew out on making such a stupid joke, though unfortunately, he was not as successful at keeping the sentiment off his face. Annie had to bite back a smile at his reaction, and noting this, Mitchell grinned. "Just someone who's been needing some company."

"Well, she better get here soon!" George called from the kitchen. "These potatoes won't hold forever."

As if on cue, someone knocked at the door. Mitchell jumped into action, feeling suddenly incredibly nervous; Annie really wasn't going to be pleased when she saw who it was. Oh, well. Too late to go back now. "That's her." With the others all moving forward, trying to get a peek at his guest, Mitchell managed to push his way to the front, opening the door to reveal Janey Harris.

Ignoring the rather vulgar expletive that Annie let out behind him, Mitchell smiled broadly at Janey, motioning for her to come inside. "Janey, hi. Can I take your coat?"

She was even oranger than the last time he'd seen her, although with Owen gone now, she probably didn't have much to fill her time aside from going to the tanning bed. Trying not to stare, Mitchell motioned to the group. "Janey, you already know George. This is his fiance, Nina, this is Andrew--" He took in a deep breath, motioning to Annie, "--and this is Fanny, the one I told you about."

"Fanny?" Annie asked through gritted teeth.

Mitchell merely smiled at her. "Yeah, you know who you are, Fanny. Annie's identical twin sister."

Janey stared at Annie, face blanching ever so slightly. "You're a a dead ringer for her. I can't believe Owen never mentioned Annie had an identical twin."

Annie smiled through clenched teeth. "Sometimes I can hardly remember it myself. Mitchell, can I have a word?"

She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him up the stairs before he could respond and spent the next minute and a half barraging him with a vocabulary that would have made a sailor blush. Mitchell stared at her in shock. "You kissed your mother with that mouth?"

"No, but apparently my twin sister does!" Annie slugged his arm. "What were you thinking? Janey Harris? _Janey Harris?_"

"Annie, calm down." Mitchell took her by her arms. "I didn't mean to upset you." Okay, so that was a bit of a lie. "But I kept thinking of Owen being locked away in the loony bin and poor Janey all by herself."

"Poor Janey?" Annie hissed. "_Poor Janey_? She stole my fiance, if you'll kindly recall."

"Who turned out to be a psychotic killer," Mitchell reminded her. "I think Janey's been through enough, don't you? Doesn't she deserve a night with some nice, normal-- okay, not _normal_-- decent people?"

Annie fumed silently, looking as though she was biting back a response. Finally, after taking in a few deep breaths, she calmed herself enough to speak. "So it's just a charity thing. You aren't... thinking of dating her or anything?"

Mitchell shrugged, grimacing internally at what he was about to do. "I don't know. She's kind of cute." He searched Annie's gaze. "Why? Is there a reason I shouldn't date her?"

Nostrils flaring, Annie swallowed. "None that I can think of."

They stared at each other a long moment, breaths falling into sync, their gazes steady and unblinking, the air between them charged and strangely heavy.

"The food is getting cold!" George called out impatiently from below.

Annie pulled away, avoiding Mitchell's gaze as she headed downstairs. Bracing himself, Mitchell followed.

#

"...and then I saved the puppy," Andrew concluded his story.

A collective "aww" went up around the table from all the women. It took all of Mitchell's energy not to shove his fork through his hand.

George, who was sitting at the head of the table, shook his head in wonder. "Who knew that one man could save so many puppies?"

Andrew shrugged, the perfect picture of modesty. "I guess it's just my calling in life. I love puppies _so_ much."

"So do I," Annie returned, getting a dreamy expression on her face, "their cute little noses and their tiny little paws and their big puppy eyes. They're so cute."

Andrew reached out, squeezing her hand. "They aren't the only thing around here that's cute."

Mitchell couldn't help but snort; it was such a bad line. But the glare Annie shot him would have scared the pants off the bogeyman, so he quickly redirected his attention to Janey. "So, Janey. You work at a tanning salon, right? How's that?"

"It's, you know. A tanning salon." Janey helped herself to another roll. "These rolls are fantastic, by the way."

George beamed at the compliment. "Why, thank you. Secret family recipe."

Desperate not to hear any more puppy stories from Andrew, Mitchell pressed, "So what exactly does it entail? Tanning."

Janey blinked at him, confused. "Entail?"

"It means what do you have to do," Annie spoke up, barely repressing an eye roll.

"Oh, right!" Janey buttered her roll liberally as she spoke. "Well, you come to the salon, you say what setting you want, you hop on the bed, and you tan. Pretty simple. Oh, and you have to strip down to your undies, of course." She gave Mitchell an appraising look, winking. "I'd be happy to help with you with that sometime, Mitchell. Tanning, I mean."

If looks could kill, Annie would have obliterated Janey into a million pieces. Mitchell fought a smile. "Thanks. Maybe I'll take you up on that."

Something began crawling up his leg. Mitchell jumped, then realized it was Janey's foot. Giving a forced laugh, he pushed away from the table. "Oops. Dropped my fork."

He dropped under the table before anyone could question him, hoping that would be enough to dissuade Janey from continuing her little game of footsie. Waiting as long as he guessed it would actually take to find a lost fork, Mitchell was about to move back into his seat when his gaze caught on a movement out of the corner of his eyes. Turning, he spotted Andrew's hand closing down over Annie's thigh.

If he had been a cartoon character, that was the point when steam would have started pouring out of Mitchell's ears. As it was he had to force himself not to drive his fork into Andrew's leg. Taking his seat again, Mitchell searched desperately to find something to get Andrew away from Annie. Should he set his shirt on fire? Probably too dramatic. Or he could always go a little old school...

Thinking quickly, Mitchell stood up, grabbing the wine bottle from the center of the table. "Looks like you're running low there, Drew," Mitchell said, reaching for Andrew's glass. "Let me top you up."

"It's Andrew," Annie said tightly.

"Isn't that what I said?" Mitchell replaced the glass, then swung around wide, purposefully knocking over Andrew's glass and spilling it all over... Annie. Oops. Oh, well, that would work.

"Mitchell!" Annie shot to her feet, eyes blazing. "Watch what you're doing!"

Janey made a face. "Relax, Fanny, it was just an accident."

Annie's face turned a disturbing shade of red as she bit back her response. "Ugh!" was all she finally said, storming out of the room.

Andrew started to his feet after her, but Mitchell held up a hand. "Relax, Drew, I'll take care of it."

"Don't be too long!" George called after him. "You'll miss dessert!"

Mitchell followed Annie to the upstairs bathroom and knocked tentatively. Her voice snapped at him through the walls. "If that's Mitchell, and I know it's Mitchell, then go away. I don't want to talk to you."

"Come on, Annie." Mitchell tried his best to sound contrite. "I'm sorry. Really. Let me help you."

"Go away!"

Ignoring her, Mitchell pushed open the door to find Annie scrubbing manically at her clothes. She glared at him. "You ruined my outfit-- my only outfit. What if this never comes out? I can't exactly throw it in the wash."

Oops. He hadn't considered that. Feeling sincerely apologetic now, Mitchell stepped closer. "What can I do?"

"I'll tell you what you can do," Annie snapped back. "You can stop being such an arse. Ever since I started dating Andrew, you've been weird and moody and-- you've been acting like George!"

Ouch. Now that hurt.

Still riled up and apparently choosing to take it out on her clothes, Annie tore off her gray wrap in one motion, leaving her arms and shoulders exposed in only her white tank top. "Will this bloody stain never come out?"

Mitchell couldn't help but stare. Struggling to control his breathing, he swallowed and managed, "I don't like Andrew. I don't trust him."

"Then maybe you shouldn't have told me to date him!" Annie seethed.

"Maybe I shouldn't have!" Mitchell snapped back.

Annie's gaze shot up to his. The air crackled between them. "Why do you care?" she asked with a toss of her head, trying for nonchalance and not quite managing it. "You have _Janey_ now."

"For cripe's sake," Mitchell rolled his eyes, "I don't give a shit about Janey."

Annie blinked, looking uncertain now. "You don't?"

Mitchell shook his head, swallowing, and was surprised to find that his hands were trembling. "I'm in love with someone else."

"Who?" Annie whispered, not breaking his gaze.

Here it was, the moment of truth. Annie had told him once he never seemed like he was afraid of anything; he wondered if she'd still say that now. Well, it was now or never. Sink or swim. Sucking in a deep breath, he leaned forward and kissed her.

Nothing happened.

He was there, she was there, but she wasn't reacting at all; she was stiff as a board. Shit. He'd totally misjudged the whole situation, everything, Back-peddling quickly, he started to pull away.

And then Annie laced her fingers through his hair and half-moaned his name, dragging him closer, and they were off.

It was more intense than anything he'd felt in either of his lifetimes. He'd been in love before, but not like this, not where she was literally one of the two people he cared about in the entire world, not when he loved her enough to only want good things for her, loved her enough to want to be better for her and better for himself so he could deserve her. Feeling her hands in his hair, dragging down along his back, made him feel alive in a way that he hadn't for almost a century. The kiss became more urgent, and they stumbled backward, Mitchell's back slamming up against the wall, ice-cold hands feeling their way under his shirt and exploring his expanses of skin hungrily. He reciprocated in kind, body humming in anticipation as his fingers made their first foray under her tank top and she arched against him, gasping out his name--

The door burst open and Nina rushed inside, managing a "Sorry!" before half-collapsing over the toilet bowl and retching violently.

Mitchell felt an almost physical pang as Annie pulled away from him. He tried to reach for her, but she had already disappeared.

"Shit," he muttered, banging his head against the door as Nina continued to vomit in the background.

TBC...

Coming up: Edward Cullen, talks of threesomes, and more Janey.

Review and I'll send you happy Mitchell thoughts!


	4. Last Date

a\n: Wow, it's been a long time since I updated this. Sorry to all those who have been waiting patiently, and thanks for all of the adds-- seriously, those were great reminders to get back to this. This is pretty much the end-- there's a fluffy little epilogue I might add on, haven't decided yet. But for now, enjoy, and thanks for reading!

How To Woo A Ghost

Chapter Four: Big Date

Annie was avoiding him. Mitchell had tried to tell himself that wasn't the case, but after three days of not seeing her when she never left the house, it wasn't difficult to piece together what was happening. Annie regretted their kiss, their friendship was ruined, and he might never see her again.

It was turning out to be a fantastic week.

"Are you and Annie in a fight?" George asked him the fourth morning of silence.

Mitchell looked up at him in surprise. George had been so lost in his world of Nina and babies and sympathy hormones lately that he hadn't seemed to be noticing much else. Turned out the guy could still occasionally surprise him. "Sort of," Mitchell admitted.

Folding his arms, George looked at Mitchell sternly. "What did you do?"

Well, Mitchell could bluster about why George would assume it was his fault, or lie about what had happened, but frankly, he was too tired. "I told her I was in love with her."

George's face blanched and his eyes became the epic size usually reserved only for cartoon characters. "You _what_?"

Sighing, Mitchell settled back to listen to George's freakout, managing to zone out most of it aside from a few key phrases. "What were you thinking?" "Ruin your friendship..." "Think with your head for once instead of your--" Hey! Now that was just insulting. Finally, George seemed to tire himself out and leveled a finger at Mitchell, puffing out his chest. "If you hurt her, I swear, I will kill you."

It was said in all sincerity, so Mitchell tried his best not to luagh but couldn't keep a little smile from creeping out. He quickly sobered, though, as the reality of the situation came back to him. "I don't think you have to worry. Annie's made it pretty clear she doesn't feel the same way..."

He swallowed, losing himself in the memory of their kiss. She'd responded, hadn't she? He hadn't forced himself on her. She'd been the one to pull him closer and moan his name like he was God's gift to women. So what had he done wrong? How had he scared her off? If only she would talk to him...

When he looked back up, George had a hand pressed over his mouth, and his eyes were unusually shiny. "Oh my gosh," he breathed, "you really are in love with her." He pumped a fist in the air. "Mitchell is in love!!!"

Mitchell raised an eyebrow at him. "Okay, these mood swings are making you seriously batty."

But nothing seemed able to knock George off his high. "I have been waiting our entire friendship for you to actually genuinely care about someone, and now you finally do. It's so... human!"

He pulled Mitchell into a hug. Mitchell gave in, laughing, though once again, Annie's face flashed before his eyes, sobering him. "Well, if it's human to have your heart broken, no wonder they're all such bastards."

George stepped away, leveling Mitchell with a stern gaze. "Just don't become a sappy, broody Edward Cullen, all right?"

Mitchell started to nod in agreement, then caught himself. "Hold on-- you've read _Twilight_?"

Eyes widening in panic, George swallowed. "Well... you must have read it, too, to know what I'm talking about!"

The two men eyed each other warily. "Let us never speak of this again," Mitchell said finally, and George nodded in fervent agreement.

#

Up in his room, Mitchell listened to music, trying to avoid anything from the '40s that might make him think of Annie, though of course that was a lost cause. She was all he could think about, and she wouldn't even let him talk to her, or see her for that matter. He'd thought he spotted her up in the hallway earlier, but by the time he'd managed to call out her name, she was gone.

Despite his promise to George not to become a romantic sop like Edward Cullen, Mitchell couldn't help but think how much easier Edward had things with Bella. At least she couldn't disappear into thin air whenever she got angry with him. Though in truth, if Mitchell was going to identify with any fictional vampire, it would be Angel. That guy could kick some serious ass. Though of course, Mitchell had only watched _Buffy_ because Sarah Michelle Gellar was hot. He hadn't cried at the finale or anything...

The ringing of his cell phone thankfully interrupted him from his current train of thought. Mitchell answered, surprised to see it was George calling. "George? Where are you?"

"I'm downstairs with Janey Harris," George hissed into the phone, "and she won't take no for an answer!"

Bloody hell. What had he gotten into with this woman? Sighing, Mitchell made his way downstairs.

To his surprise, he found Janey in the kitchen with George, pressing him up against some cabinets, running her acrylic nails along his face. "So just how involved are you and Nina, anyway?"

"Very," George gulped. "We're happily in love-- engaged, actually."

"Oh, I don't mind that..."

Mitchell stared in flabbergasted shock. "You picked George over me?"

"Mitchell!" George yelped at the sight of him, attempting to evade Janey's claws. "Save me!"

Janey whirled to face Mitchell, giving him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Mitchell. You're cute, and everything-- really, really cute-- but I can't stop thinking about George's rolls."

Mitchell wrinkled his nose. "I hope you're being literal and not using some kind of creepy euphemism."

It was Janey's turn to wrinkle her nose at him. "Loofah-what?" She shook her head, a coy smile spreading over her face. "I always did have a thing for smart guys." She looked back and forth between the two men, ignoring their mounting expressions of horror. "Maybe the three of us could--"

"No!" George and Mitchell shouted at once, emphatically.

Janey pouted. "Oh, the two of you are no fun--"

"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

All three turned to see Annie storming into the room, eyes ablaze, looking for all intents and purposes like some sort of vengeful goddess. She planted her hands on her hips, glaring impressively at Janey. "You aren't welcome here anymore."

Managing to look both taken aback and affronted, Janey blinked back at Annie. "Jeez, Fanny, take a Midol or something."

"Leave, right now, before I throw you out myself," Annie continued, nostrils flaring. "Mitchell doesn't belong to you and he never will, so buggar off."

George timidly held up an index finger. "Actually, for the record, she came for me, not Mitchell."

Annie raised an eyebrow. "You came for George?" Janey shrugged and nodded, and almost immediately Annie's anger visibly deflated. "Oh, that's fine. You can take George."

Sputtering, George held up his hands. "No, no, she cannot take George. George is engaged!"

"Yeah, that's right," Annie remembered aloud. "Jeez, Janey, what is it with you and engaged men?"

Janey shrugged. "Dr. Rubenstein says it's 'cause Daddy never let me play with dolls as a girl, and--" A sudden thought seemed to strike her. "Wait, how do you know about my history with engaged men?" Another thought occurred. "And why are you wearing the same outfit as yesterday? The same outfit that..." Janey's eyes widened in horror, and she clutched inexplicably at her ankles, crying "Don't chop off my feet!" as she raced out of the house.

A moment of silence followed. George cleared his throat. "So, care to explain that last bit about the feet, Annie?"

Annie shrugged. "Not really, no."

Mitchell watched Annie carefully, hardly breathing-- okay, so he didn't need to breathe, but metaphorically speaking-- afraid that even the slightest move would spook her off. But finally, he could bear it no longer. "Annie," he said quietly.

Her gaze snapped up to his and just as quickly snapped away. "I should go--"

He reached for her. "Annie, please, we need to talk about this--"

George cleared his throat, making a bee-line for the living room. "I think I'll just--"

"George, don't go!" Annie instructed, still avoiding Mitchell's gaze.

George froze in place.

"George, get out of here," Mitchell growled, glaring at him.

George looked plaintively back and forth between them a moment. "Sorry, Annie," he said finally, "bros before hoes." And he ducked out of the room.

The air was tense, charged. Mitchell forced a smile, venturing a step closer. "Thanks for trying to save me from Janey."

"I didn't come to save you," Annie snapped, "I came to spite her. You were purely incidental."

All right. So clearly she was still a little angry. Mitchell took in a deep breath, charging in. "Listen, about the other night--"

Annie shook her head vehemently, holding up her hands as if to block her ears. "I don't want to have this conversation!"

Something inside of Mitchell snapped. "Well, too bad, because we're bloody well having it!"

One of the mugs on the counter burst. Mitchell ducked as shards went flying everywhere. "Jeez, Annie, control yourself. I don't even know what you have to be upset about. I'm the one that put myself on the line--"

"Oh, really?" Another mug shattered. "You tell me you're in love with someone else and then kiss me and you don't know why I'd be upset?"

Mitchell furrowed his brow. "I said what?"

"Last night," Annie reminded him, "in the toilet. You said you didn't care about Janey, that you're still in love with Shelly."

It was such a silly, simple mistake that Mitchell wanted to laugh out loud. "I'm not in love with Shelly."

He tried to reach for her, but Annie shrunk away, blinking back angry tears. "I don't want to be your rebound, Mitchell." Two mugs shattered this time.

"Annie ." He let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. "You're not the rebound girl, especially not to me. You're..."

But he felt too ridiculous saying it. Annie's dark eyes finally ventured up to meet his, curious. "What?"

Mitchell shook his head. "I can't say it. It's too cheesy."

"I'm what, Mitchell?" Annie pressed.

He closed his eyes, too embarrassed to say it straight to her face. "You're... the once in a lifetime girl. And believe me, I'd know. I've lived enough of them."

When he finally ventured to open his eyes, Annie was staring at him with a look of wonderment on her face, like she couldn't believe this was happening. Taking courage from this, Mitchell closed the distance between them, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "Sorry if I was too cryptic before," he murmured, "but I'm in love with you. Not Shelly, not Janey-- definitely not Janey. You're it for me, Annie."

He'd never seen a smile so radiant as hers was in that moment. She pulled him to her, kissing him soundly, and it was so searing that all the remaining mugs in the room shattered simultaneously. "I love you, too," Annie murmured when she pulled away, smiling against his ear, "you idiot."

A knock at the door interrupted the moment. Unable to stop grinning, Mitchell glanced over his shoulder. "I wonder who that could be?"

"I imagine it's Andrew," Annie said.

Mitchell's grin faded. "What's he doing here?"

"He's taking me to the zoo," Annie informed him, squeezing his hand as she pulled away.

Mitchell stared after her. "But... you're not still going?"

"Of course I am," Annie returned. "I told him I would, didn't I? And I need the chance to break it to him gently, face-to-face." She grinned at him. "This is a once in a lifetime girl he's missing out on, after all." She stepped in closer to Mitchell, lips teasing his ear as she added, "Besides, consider this payback for inviting Janey Harris into my bloody house."

And with one parting, teasing smile, she was gone.

A stunned Mitchell wandered into the living room, where George was watching the tely on high volume. Seeing Mitchell, he muted it, looking up expectantly. "So, how did it go?"

Mitchell pondered it a moment, a slow grin spreading across his face. "She loves me," he said happily.

"Mitchell, that's brilliant!" George rose to his feet, stretching happily. "I'm going to make something to celebrate. Fancy anything in particular?"

Remembering Janey's earlier words, Mitchell shuddered. "Anything but your rolls."

George grimaced along with him. "Agreed." Clapping Mitchell's shoulder, he made his way toward the kitchen.

Mitchell sunk down on the couch, a content smile on his face as he prepared to settle in front of the the tely for the afternoon, waiting for Annie to come home. Annie, who loved him. Did life get any better than this?

From the other room, a squeal interrupted his reverie, followed by a, "What the hell happened to all the mugs???"

The End


	5. Epilogue

a/n: Eh, what the heck. Here's the fluffy epilogue. I warn you, this is so fluffy it makes the Easter Bunny look like it needs Rogaine. You have been warned. Thanks to all who came on the journey. Hope you enjoyed!

How To Woo A Ghost

Epilogue:

First Date

On their first date, they take the train into London. To pass the time, they play cards and listen to each others' I-Pods. She has agreed to try Nat King Cole if he'll listen to Katy Perry. At first, it annoyed the hell out of him, but now it isn't too bad. She's no Billie Holliday, that's for sure.

They spend some time in Regent's Park, feeding the swans even though the signs say not to-- "What are they gonna do, kill us?" Annie quips-- and then head down into the tourist hub of the city, Piccadilly Circus. Annie tries to play it cool, but Mitchell can see she's mesmerized by the busy-ness of it all. "I haven't been since I was a kid," she admits to him. "My dad was so scared I'd get lost that he wouldn't let go of my hand the whole time."

That sort of ruins his plan to try and hold her hand-- he may not have dated a girl properly in a long time, but even he knows you're not supposed to remind her of her dad-- so instead they make a detour into Ripley's Believe It Or Not and are completely grossed out by the stuff they see. It's a bit funny, a ghost and a vampire being grossed out by anything, but it makes them feel normal for a change, and they soon have each other in hysterics mimicking what George's reactions to some of the displays would be.

Afterward, they go to a show. It's one of the dozen based off a movie and the music is so saccharine that Mitchell can hardly sit still, but Annie is clearly loving it, so he grits his teeth and bears it, and after intermission when he finally gets to hold her hand, the whole thing suddenly seems fantastic to him, brilliant even.

When the show is over they walk along the Thames, comparing favorites, and discover they both like chocolate, red, and monkeys, though he teases her mercilessly when she says her favorite movie is _Legally Blonde_ and she thinks he must have made up Buster Keaton because she's never heard of him. The only time he lets go of her hand is to give her his jacket, which she takes with a smile, even though she reminds him she'd a bit beyond needing it. It doesn't matter; she looks so good in it he thinks she should make it a permanent part of her ensemble.

On the train ride home, she rests her head on his shoulder and asks to hear a story about when he was a kid, so he tells her about the time he convinced his sister to let him wash her hair with mud. When she finishes laughing, he asks her to tell him about her happiest moment. She does, but first asks, "You mean besides today?", which makes him grin the rest of the way home.

Back at the house, he pulls out _The General_ to prove that Buster Keaton does, in fact, exist, and he and Annie laugh so hard watching it that George pokes his head out of his room and calls out that they had best take things to the bedroom if they're going to do anything "inappropriate," which makes them both laugh even harder while George continues to sputter from the top of the staircase before finally giving up and slamming his door.

All in all, it's a pretty damn perfect day.


End file.
